The Human Badge
It was as if God’s fountain pen busted
Because all its black ink suddenly stained
The evening sky. The front was blowing in.
In those same moments hidden from view
A trumpet blew proud and mournful notes
Wild with dream. A band student practicing.
And I thought of you and your holy week, Your inevitable collision with the very mind of death. You had to, didn’t you? In order to successfully Earn the human badge you had to die. To have Refused the cup would have secured anonymity. The cross made you finally a real man. As wind and trumpet blew I also saw Your flaw. All humans have one. Yours was you loved too much.
And I thought of you and your holy week, Your inevitable collision with the very mind of death. You had to, didn’t you? In order to successfully Earn the human badge you had to die. To have Refused the cup would have secured anonymity. The cross made you finally a real man. As wind and trumpet blew I also saw Your flaw. All humans have one. Yours was you loved too much.
I am a new subscriber. Thank you, John, for the gift that is this poem. Your merging of the everyday with the sacred touches me deeply. OK, Good Friday, I am ready for you.
Hi, Rhonda. Thanks for your words.
Such a flaw as this. Ah, yes.
Yes, Diana…yes.
John, this poem stops me…such a gift the day before Maundy Thursday. I also was so moved by the poem you wrote memorializing Kara Tippetts. My family is so grateful for your poetry!
Thank you very much, Hallie!
This is so, so beautiful. I subscribe to your posts and love reading your words. I don’t comment much though. But this poem gave me pause. Oh, the ending takes my breath away. For a Christian who hasn’t felt very Christian-y or faithful lately, this will help me approach Easter.
Hi, Karissa. I haven’t felt very Christiany lately either, its good to know I’m not alone – thank you.
Felix culpa.
O happy fault that earned for us so great, so glorious a Redeemer.
Hushed by the beauty of this, John Blase.
Thank you, Jennifer.
The power of His love, the mystery of Divinity as man, the telling of the unfathomable grace. How do we breathe in the fragility of it all. Thank you for wrapping it in poetry, John.
Thanks, Elizabeth.
I saw that sky last night– it caught me off guard in a way where I couldn’t simply say “Yep, that’s a spring sky.” I let it sit in a center place because I had no category. God’s like that.
Sallie, that sky stopped me, stilled me.